Return of the King
by Sassylou
Summary: Rebirth. Merlin has waited, and waited, and waited…And still, there has been no sign of Arthur. He's on the verge of giving up again. To keep himself from giving in to his own despair, he decides to get another college degree to distract himself. And so, shedding the aging spell he uses on occasion, he enrolls in yet another university, where he finds something he didn't expect to.
1. Prologue: Restless

**I recently rewatched Merlin, with my mom. I managed to get her hooked on it. But now that means that I'm obsessing over it again. So I have a new fanfiction. I know that I haven't finished my other Merlin fanfic, and I'm sorry about that. I do plan to finish that one at some point. I just hit a huge writer's block, and I can't seem to get past it. And I haven't been able to get past it for a while. This was an idea that I've had for a while. It's a rebirth story. It follows everything in the show, but we're going to pretend that, in this story, that the show was never created. I'm having a hard enough time working around all the Arthurian legends (what I know of them, anyway). So it follows the show, but the characters don't know about the show. To them, it doesn't exist, if that makes any sense. And don't worry, the future chapters should be longer.**

 **Summary: Merlin has waited, and waited, and waited…And still, there has been no sign of Arthur. He's on the verge of giving up again. To keep himself from giving in to his own despair, he decides to get another college degree to distract himself. And so, shedding the aging spell he uses on occasion, he enrolls in yet another university, where he finds something he didn't expect to find.**

* * *

Merlin was restless.

It happened every few decades, and it was perfectly reasonable for someone who had waited without any sign for centuries for someone else to return. He'd been alive since the fifth century, waiting for Arthur. It was now the twenty-first century, and nothing had happened.

Maybe Arthur wasn't coming back. Maybe Kilgharrah had been wrong about that.

It wasn't the first time that Merlin had thought this. The doubt had crept up on him many times over the years. It was what caused him to get restless. And when he got restless, he would travel.

Away from the lake.

Away from the endless hope.

Away from Arthur.

He'd traveled the entire globe. A few times, in fact. But he always came back to the lake, eventually. The longest he'd stayed away was eighty-seven years. He never worried about the isle at the center being disturbed. The ancient magic there kept most people unconsciously away from it, and Merlin had his own spells surrounding the isle. If Arthur did return, Merlin assumed it would be on that isle, the same place he'd died.

He always came back, and he always would, because he would always believe in Arthur and his destiny, because he'd be lost in despair if he didn't believe it. But sometimes, he just needed to get away from the memories. Sometimes, he just needed a break from the waiting.

America was his choice this time. He hadn't been there since just after it had become its own country. He thought it was about time to visit again.

He'd heard of a university that intrigued him. He was actually surprised he hadn't heard of it before. It had been running for nearly sixty years, and the name alone should have caught his attention long before now.

Camelot University.

The founders had certainly been fans of the legends of King Arthur of Camelot-none of which had the full truth, to Merlin's utter annoyance-to have created an entire college inspired by it. There were several accounts of King Arthur and the Round Table and Merlin and Camelot. There wasn't a single one that had all of the correct facts. None of the legends, for example, portrayed Merlin as a youth. He was always the wise old wizard. When in reality, he had been two years younger than Arthur.

Perhaps going to a school inspired by the very thing he was trying to escape wasn't the best way to keep the despair at bay, but he was extremely curious.

Besides, he'd always enjoyed school. He had several degrees and certificates in several different areas. Some practical, and some just for fun. Health care, education, law, advertising, journalism, art history, to name a few. It didn't take much time or effort for him to magically forge the documents he needed to get into any college he wanted.

Camelot University it was, then.


	2. One: Avalon Lakehouse

**Yes, this is set in America, despite the fact that the show is British. I, however, am American. I am not familiar at all with the British education system. So, it's American. Sorry if that upsets anyone.**

* * *

Arthur Kimball was seriously regretting his decision to leave his car at home for his first week of college. The student housing he'd gotten into-Avalon Lakehouse, seriously-was only two blocks away from his parents' house. He could easily walk home the next weekend and pick it up, which he was planning to do. But that meant that his parents were dropping him off at the Lakehouse. And _that_ meant that he was listening to them babble on and on.

About King Arthur, his legendary namesake.

He hadn't been all that thrilled about attending a school inspired by the legend. But his parents had agreed to pay all of his tuition and half of his monthly rent if he went to Camelot University. He couldn't turn down an offer like that. And he did kind of like the idea of staying close to his parents. They were weird, with their Arthurian obsession, but they were good parents.

He just…couldn't understand why they were so obsessed with the legend. There was no way one man could be that great. Yes, he believed that King Arthur had existed, but he was sure he couldn't have been _that_ amazing. The legends were probably just exaggerations. He just a man, after all. A mortal man. He was nothing special, nothing worthy of being remembered in the way he was.

And Arthur didn't like being named after someone so legendary. It was a lot of pressure, to try to live up to a name like that. His parents had never said it, but he felt like they expected him to be just as amazing as the man they had named him after.

"I'm going to miss you, Arty," his mother said. He could hear the tears in her voice.

Arthur groaned. It wasn't even like he wouldn't be seeing her almost every weekend. He was probably going to be visiting them every Saturday, at least. "Mom! You know how much I hate that nickname. Please, can you try not to embarrass me today? I'm going to get enough crap as it is for being named after _King_ _Arthur_. Nobody needs to hear you call me _Arty_."

His mother looked sternly at him. "Arthur is a noble and honorable and brave name. We gave you that name because we knew, as soon as we first saw you, that you would be just as noble and honorable and brave as the legendary King Arthur." Yeah, no pressure at all.

"Just be glad she didn't name you Merlin, like she originally planned. At least Arthur is still a somewhat popular name," his father pointed out.

Merlin had always been Olivia Kimball's favorite Arthurian character, which her son did not understand at all. "Hey," she objected defensively, giving her husband a mock-glare. "That's not a name to be ashamed of. Merlin was wise and strong."

Arthur snorted. "Merlin was an idiot."

"According to most Arthurian tales, he was very wise. King Arthur trusted his council."

Arthur shook his head, but he didn't say anything. He didn't believe it, of course, but he knew it wouldn't do any good to argue with his mother. She could be extraordinarily stubborn when she put her mind to it. And they'd had this argument before. Arthur wasn't even really sure why he thought Merlin was an idiot, but he did. His mother strongly disagreed with him.

"Do you know who your roommates are?" his father, Robert, asked.

Arthur shrugged. "They sent a list this morning, but I haven't looked at it yet." Arthur would be sharing the Lakehouse with seven other young men. From what he understood, they were all freshmen and about the same age. He was sure that they were all either obsessed with the Arthurian legends themselves, or had parents who were obsessed with them.

Before he knew it, they were pulling into the driveway of the large house. It was a nice place to live, he couldn't deny that.

His parents helped him carry his bags inside the Lakehouse, where six of his seven roommates were lounging around the living room. They all looked up as he came in, followed by Robert and Olivia.

He turned to his parents before they could say anything. "Thanks, Mom, Dad. I think I got it from here." He knew, if he let them stay any length of time, his mother would manage to mortify him. Not on purpose, of course. She never did it on purpose. But she still managed to do it. Every time.

"But-"

Robert set down the bag he'd been carrying and helped his wife do the same. "Let's give Arthur a chance to get settled in on his own, Liv. Come on." His father had always been understanding, which Arthur had never appreciated more than he did in that moment.

"But-"

"I'll see you for lunch next Saturday," Arthur called, as his father kindly ushered his wife back to the car.

He breathed a small sigh of relief. "Arthur?" one of his roommates, a young man with flawlessly wavy dark brown hair, repeated. "I see we have royalty among us."

Arthur scowled. He was probably going to get a lot of that, while attending Camelot University, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

"Don't mind him," a very large young man said. He was huge, the biggest guy Arthur had ever met. "Gavin's an idiot, and a drunk. He always says whatever comes to his mind. I'm Percy, by the way. Percy Ware."

"Arthur Kimball."

Another man with dark wavy hair-closer to black than brown-held out his hand. "I'm Lance Wicker. And I always thought _my_ parents were obsessed with the King Arthur legends."

Arthur snorted slightly. "I'm sure they don't hold a candle to my parents."

"Apparently not. I'll introduce you to the others." He pointed to each one as he said their names. "That's Elliott Tomson, Lionel Talbot, and Micah Harler."

Arthur grinned. "I actually already know Lionel. Sort of." They'd gone to school together, though they'd never really hung out or anything. Still, it was nice to see a familiar face. He hadn't been expecting that.

Lionel nodded, making his golden curls bounce. "Nice to see you again, Arthur."

Arthur looked around. The living room opened up onto a large kitchen, with two refrigerators. Four doors were along the back wall, all closed. He assumed those were the bedrooms. "So, what options am I left with for a room?"

Lance pointed to the last door, furthest from the kitchen. "Only one room left. You'll be sharing with our last roommate, whenever he shows up. Which is actually incredibly ironic, considering his name."

Arthur frowned. "Why? What's his name?"

"Didn't you read the email?"

Arthur shook his head. "I was finishing up my last minute packing when it came. I still haven't opened it."

Lance chuckled. "You should get a kick out of it. His parents must have been incredibly cruel to saddle him with that name. His name-"

The door of the Lakehouse burst open, cutting Lance off. A young man with short, midnight black hair and goofy ears stumbled in, carrying several bags that he seemed to be struggling under the weight of.

He looked up then, and his blue eyes met Arthur's. They widened and his jaw hung open. His bags tumbled out of his arms and hit the floor with a soft thud. He just stared at Arthur, making him extremely uncomfortable. He'd never met this boy before, so why was he staring at him like they were old friends suddenly reunited?

And why did Arthur feel like he _should_ know him?

Lance's voice broke through the sudden silence that had filled the room.

"Merlin."


	3. Two: The Wait is Over

Merlin almost couldn't stop staring at the blonde standing in front of him. It was Arthur. Arthur Pendragon, looking about eighteen or nineteen, but otherwise just the same as the last time Merlin had seen him. Except he was _alive_. He was so vibrantly alive.

And the others, they all looked the same as well, except they were all about the same age, obviously fresh out of high school. He finally managed to tear his gaze away from Arthur to look around the room. Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan, and…Mordred. They were all there. He recognized them all. But it only took one glance at each of them to realize that _they_ didn't recognize _him_.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and began gathering his things again. He struggled to keep his thoughts straight. This was the last thing he had expected. He had been so sure that when Arthur returned, it would be at the lake, not... _America_. "Uh…sorry," he said, kicking the front door shut with his foot. "I guess I'm the last one here." Not that he was surprised. He was still late all the time. Despite the fact that he'd been alive for centuries, he'd never quite managed to refine his sense of time.

Lancelot-or the young man who Merlin had once known as Lancelot-stepped forward. "Yeah. Arthur only beat you by a few minutes, though. Cool accent, by the way. Are you British?"

"Uh…yes." Merlin wondered if they all went by the same names now as they had in the days of Camelot. Arthur did, apparently. He hadn't bothered to read the email about his roommates before he'd gotten here. Maybe he should have. Maybe if he'd read it, he would have been better prepared for this. "I'm Merlin. Merlin Emrys." He'd gone by many names over the centuries, but he actually preferred his given name and used it the most often. It was certainly unique in this modern world, and he liked that.

None of them reacted to his last name. He'd half-expected Arthur or, at the very least, Mordred, to respond in some way. Before he'd become a knight, that was almost the only name Mordred had called him. And Arthur had heard Morgana call him Emrys, if only once. Nothing. None of them reacted in any way.

However they'd come to be here, now, they had no memories of their past lives. He was certain of that. And as far as Merlin could tell, Mordred didn't seem to have any magic. Merlin was certain he'd be able to sense it if the druid did. Magic was scarce in the world now. Very few believed in it, and among those that did believe, only a few practiced. But they didn't practice the Old Religion. No, the magic that was practiced in today's world was mostly simple healing charms and fortune-telling. And because Merlin was so attuned to the magic in the world around him, he knew it when someone else near him was able to harness that magic. And he couldn't sense any such ability from Mordred.

He found out about their names when they introduced themselves, one by one.

"Lance Wicker." That was Lancelot, of course.

"Arthur Kimball." Obviously King Arthur.

"I'm Gavin Baldwin, and this is Percy Ware." That was Gwaine and Percival. Merlin was struggling not to chuckle at this point. The names weren't exactly the same, but they weren't too far off from what he was used to.

"Lionel Talbot." Leon.

"Elliott Tomson." Elyan, who had once been the son of Tom. Very ironic.

"Micah Harler." And Mordred.

Merlin chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. They wouldn't understand what he thought was so funny. But their names…They were all variations or somewhat similar to the names they had when Merlin first knew them. And their surnames. Well, they were certainly fitting. He would have to do a little bit of research to make sure with each one, but he knew the meanings of a couple of them off the top of his head. Talbot basically meant messenger of destruction, which poor Leon had often been. And Kimball meant royal courage.

"It's…nice to meet you all," he said. He was glad to see them after all these years. He had been so alone for so long. He _was_ wary of Mordred… _Micah_ , though. But Mor… _Micah_ was either a much better actor than he'd ever been before, or he truly didn't feel any animosity toward Merlin or Arthur. He seemed more like the young man who had originally joined the knights, before Arthur had executed Kara.

Still, Merlin would keep an eye on him. Just in case.

Lance smiled. His modern name would be one of the easiest to get used to, his and Percy's. Arthur's, of course, was the same so there would be no adjustment there. But Merlin would have to be very careful with the others. It wouldn't be _too_ awkward to call Lionel Leon or Micah Mordred, he was sure. "We were thinking of ordering some pizzas for dinner, and then getting to know each other a bit. Gavin and Percy are the only ones who really knew each other before they arrived. And I guess Arthur and Lionel have met before. You two want to join?"

Arthur shrugged. "Sure. I'll just go put my stuff in my room." He grabbed his bags and hurried to the last bedroom.

"Merlin?" Lance asked.

"Yeah. I'll join after a while." He needed a few minutes to himself to think before he got into any lengthy conversations with them. "I'm guessing I'm sharing with Arthur?"

Gavin nodded. "Seeing as you and the princess were the last to show up."

"Hey!" Arthur yelled. "I heard that! Don't call me that ever again!"

"Sure thing, Princess!"

Chuckling, Merlin picked up his bags and joined Arthur. Some things would never change.

Unsurprisingly, Arthur had chosen the bed with the better view. He simply tossed his things on his bed and started to leave the room. He paused at the door and looked back. "Your parents seriously named you _Merlin_?" he asked.

"Yes."

"After an old, idiotic, useless sorcerer?"

That one sentence almost made him lose his composure. It was just so…Arthur. He took a deep breath, trying to stay in control. "Merlin did much more for the famous king than the prat could ever realize."

" _Prat_?"

"Clotpole also works. Even dollophead."

Arthur stared at him. It was a look that was so much like the first time they had met, just after Merlin had insulted him, that Merlin felt a pang of nostalgia. "Did you just…call the legendary Once and Future King a prat, clotpole, _and_ dollophead? You can't do that."

Merlin smirked. In some ways, this was going to be a lot of fun. "I can. I did. And I'll probably do it again at some point. I always thought King Arthur got too much credit, and his wise and humble adviser didn't get enough." He'd never done any of the things that he did for credit, but it still would have been nice to be recognized for his efforts every once in a while. Most of the legends _did_ portray him as a wise and mystical being. But none of them mentioned just how often he had saved Arthur's life.

Arthur snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm not sure that's quite true. You're only saying that because you share the 'wise' adviser's name."

"Coming from the one named after King Arthur."

Arthur nodded. "Point taken. You coming?"

"I'll be out in a few minutes. I want to put some of my stuff away first. Um, tell Lance that I don't care what kind of pizza. I'll eat just about anything." He'd never been particularly picky. It was hard to be picky when you grew up in the fifth century, as a servant. He'd eaten rat, after all. He hadn't enjoyed it, but he had eaten it.

Arthur nodded and left the room.

Merlin began putting away his possessions. The room, which was actually quite large for student housing, had two closets and a private bathroom. At least he wouldn't have to share a bathroom with Gwaine… _Gavin_. His name was Gavin this time around. There were two beds, of course, and a long built-in desk with two chairs. As he put this things away, he thought.

He still couldn't quite believe that Arthur was back, and in America, of all places. It was strange to hear that familiar voice with an unfamiliar American accent. It was strange to hear all of their voices with American accents.

Why were the others back as well? Kilgharrah had only prophesied Arthur's return, not the return of his closest friends-and mortal enemy-as well. And if they were all back, did that mean Gwen was, too? And Morgana? He hoped Uther wasn't back. He didn't want to deal with a reincarnation of him on top of Mordred and possibly Morgana.

Merlin wished he had someone to talk to about all of this. Kilgharrah was long dead, so he couldn't ask him. Aithusa had allowed himself to pass away after Morgana's death, and was no longer alive. Though he wouldn't have been very helpful to Merlin as it was. The poor creature had been through too much. Everyone from his days at Camelot was gone.

If Arthur was back, was Albion-a very old term for what was now Great Britain-in grave danger? And if Albion was in grave danger, why had Arthur been reborn in America, and not Great Britain?

Merlin shook his head. He was going to do nothing but give himself a headache at this point.

He left the room, feeling alive again for the first time since Arthur's death. He didn't know what had brought his friends here and what dangers-if any at all-the future held. What he _did_ know was that his friends were back and the wait was over.

The wait was finally over.

* * *

 **I will throw in some actual quotes from the show every now and then. But sadly, I do not own _Merlin_. The BBC owns it. I plan to switch back and forth between Merlin and Arthur's POV. **


	4. Three: Mothers

Arthur glanced over at his roommate as he changed into a pair of pajama bottoms. Merlin was already asleep, dressed in gray sweats, sprawled face-down on his bed. There was something about Merlin…Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on it. He seemed almost timeless. His eyes seemed to hold more than any college freshman's eyes should hold. It was obvious that Merlin had seen a lot in his eighteen years.

And the things that he would say. It was bizarre. He talked about places around the globe, almost as if he'd been there. He couldn't possibly have been to all of the places he'd mentioned.

He had teased each of them as if he'd known them for years, though none of them had met him before earlier that day. He spoke to each of them in a familiar way. Maybe he was just the kind of guy who made friends easily, though that just didn't seem quite right to Arthur.

But it wasn't just Merlin who didn't seem to have any problems bonding with everyone. For the first time in his life, Arthur felt like he belonged. He'd never really made any friends, even though he'd lived in the same town his whole life. His closest friend was his cousin, Miranda, but she seemed more like a sister to him most of the time than anything else.

But after the initial awkwardness before the pizza had arrived, he felt like all of these guys were honestly his friends. He was comfortable with them. He trusted them. After just _one_ meal together! It was insane.

He was a little wary of Micah, though he had no idea why. Micah was a soft-spoken boy, with sad, puppy-dog eyes. He probably couldn't hurt a fly.

But Merlin had watched him closely all evening, and that set Arthur on edge for some reason.

He shook his head, looking back at Merlin. What was it about the guy that made him so different? It couldn't just be the fact that he was British, could it?

He didn't think so.

Somehow, after they'd all gorged themselves on pizza, Merlin had ended up being assigned kitchen cleanup duty. He'd rolled his eyes at that and grumbled, "Oh, I should have known. Back to the same lousy chores as before." Arthur took that to mean that Merlin had done a lot of dishes in his childhood. But it was still a strange comment to make. And Arthur had had to restrain himself from the unusual urge to order Merlin to do even more chores around the Lakehouse. It had almost seemed like the natural thing to do.

And there seemed to be an…aura, almost, around him. Merlin gave off this sense that something was very different about him. Something otherworldly.

Arthur wanted to kick himself. Otherworldly? That was something his parents would say. He hoped that going to _Camelot_ _University_ , living in _Avalon_ _Lakehouse_ , and sharing a room with a man named _Merlin_ weren't going to make him lose his sanity. Just because his school was based off a legend full of magic did not mean that magic was real. It wasn't. Arthur knew that. He'd never seen any definitive proof that magic was real, anyway. He was going to have to be careful while at this school, or he just might end up going crazy.

He climbed into bed, ready for sleep.

It had almost come, too, when his cell phone began ringing loudly.

Merlin, across the room, woke with a startled yelp and flailed his arms wildly. He fell to the floor with a thump, then groaned and rubbed his head, where he had apparently bumped it.

Arthur chuckled, even as he reached for his phone. "Don't be such a girl," he said, the insult rolling easily off his tongue. "It's just a phone."

"Clotpole," he heard Merlin mutter.

Arthur glanced down, trying not to groan as he swiped the screen. "Mom," he said into the device. "It's almost midnight. _Why_ are you calling me?"

"Well, honey, I just wanted to know how things went," she said, but her voice was quiet, almost in a whisper.

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you hiding from Dad right now, so you could call me? Because I'm pretty sure he would have told you that you're worrying for nothing and not to bother calling me. I'm pretty sure he would have stopped you from making this phone call if he knew about it."

"I am not hiding from your father," she said indignantly. She was still speaking quietly, though.

"Mom," Arthur said knowingly, relaxing back on his bed. It wasn't the first time she'd done something like this, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last.

She sighed in defeat. "All right, fine. I am hiding from him. But you can't blame me, Arty. He wouldn't let me call you, even though I'm your _mother_. I worry about you, even if you are eighteen now. Did you get settled in?"

"For the most part. I still have to unpack, but I'll do that tomorrow. I hung out with my roommates today. They're all pretty good guys. I think we're going to become friends."

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so glad. Did you eat dinner? Did you get enough to eat? If you ever run short on food, just tell me. Dad and I will make sure to-"

"Mom," he interrupted. "Don't worry. I ate dinner and there was plenty. We ordered a bunch of pizzas. I'm fine. You seriously don't need to call me every night to check up on me. Okay?"

"I just-"

"Olivia!" Robert's voice called in the background. "Are you bugging our son at a quarter to midnight for no real reason?"

Arthur laughed. "You got busted. Go to bed, Mom. I'm fine. And please, don't call me every day. I'll call you every now and then, I promise. But you really don't need to worry."

"All right," she reluctantly agreed. "I already miss you. I love you."

"Olivia!" Robert called again.

"I love you, too, Mom," Arthur answered, still chuckling. He hung up. His mom could be a bit overbearing. But, to be honest, he really didn't mind. He knew that he was lucky to have his mother. Some people grew up without their mothers. He could easily imagine how difficult that would be. He cherished every moment with his mom, and he tried not to take them for granted.

"What are your parents like?"

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd forgotten that Merlin was there. He'd grown up as an only child, and wasn't used to the idea of sharing a room. Still, he couldn't believe that he had actually forgotten that there was somebody else in the room.

His roommate had gotten back into his bed, and laid on his back with his arms crossed behind his head. He was staring at the ceiling, as far as Arthur could tell.

"They're amazing," he answered. It was a strange question to be asked by someone he'd only met that day, but he didn't even hesitate to answer. He felt comfortable talking to Merlin. "They're weirdly obsessed with anything pertaining to King Arthur, and they have a lot of other little quirks. My mom can be very overprotective of me. My dad is pretty understanding. They're both very supportive. My dad wanted me to become a lawyer, like him. My mom wanted me to follow in her footsteps and become a doctor. But I want to open my own store someday. Something small."

"A store?" Merlin sounded surprised.

"Yes. Maybe a sporting goods store or something like that. My parents are totally cool with it. They haven't tried to pressure me into anything else. They're even paying my tuition for my business degree. They just want me to be happy."

"It sounds like your parents love you very much," Merlin said softly. There was something in his voice that Arthur couldn't quite identify.

"What about your parents? What are they like?"

Merlin didn't speak for so long Arthur thought he'd fallen asleep again. Then, in a shaky voice, he said, "Some days, it's all I can do to remember their names, their faces. I've forgotten the sound of my father's voice, the smell of my mother's hair. As time goes by, I find myself forgetting more and more about them."

"Oh. I'm sorry." And he was. It sounded terrible, to lose your memories of your parents like that. "They died, then?"

"Yes."

"Were you pretty young when it happened?"

Merlin gave a bark of laughter, and the sound was almost self-deprecating. "Young. Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Silence filled the room. It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but it wasn't exactly uncomfortable, either.

Arthur slowly drifted to sleep, the thought of mothers on his mind. He easily slipped into a dream that he knew he wouldn't remember once he woke. He never remembered his dreams.

 _Arthur watched as hope filled the woman's face. It was an expression he'd seen often, on Merlin's face. "You'll help us?" she asked._

" _I wish I could," Uther replied._

 _Was his father going to turn this woman away? She was Merlin's mother! Uther, however, was unaware of that fact. He still had his reservations about Arthur's manservant, so Arthur felt it was better not to tell his father about her relation to Merlin. He looked at his father. "Surely we can spare a few men." From what he understood, Ealdor was not a large village. It wouldn't take very many men to defend it._

 _Uther leaned back in his throne. "Resources are not the problem."_

" _That what is?" Morgana demanded._

" _Ealdor lies beyond the ridge of Aesctir," Uther explained. "For an army of Camelot to enter, it would be an act of war."_

 _Hunith dropped to her knees. Arthur felt his heart go out to her. He wanted nothing more than to help her. He was struggling not to argue publicly with his father. That wouldn't benefit anyone. He was rather impressed with how neutral Merlin was keeping his expression. He had been very distraught when he'd explained the situation to Arthur._

" _I know you're a good king," the woman said, "a caring man. I'm begging you. Help us, please." She was on the verge of tears by this point._

 _His father looked briefly away from her. "The accord we've struck with Cenred was years in the making. I cannot risk hundreds of lives for the sake of one village."_

 _Arthur sighed, wishing his father had given a different answer. He would have, if he were king. But he could understand his father's reasons. That didn't mean that he liked them._

 _Despair was clear in Hunith's eyes._

" _I'm afraid Camelot cannot help."_

 _Hunith closed her eyes, bowing her head. Her shoulders sagged slightly. Camelot had been her last hope. Morgana, with one irritated look at her guardian, stepped forward and helped the woman to her feet._

 _Arthur wanted to help. There had to be something that he could do._

 _He glanced at Merlin, at the determination in his blue eyes. He knew, in that instant, that Merlin would return with his mother to help defend his home. He wouldn't stop him, of course. Arthur would do the same thing in his place._

 _Arthur was surprisingly jealous of his servant and the close relationship he seemed to have with his mother. Arthur had never known the bond between mother and son._

* * *

 **So, I kind of love Arthur's mother in this fic. Robert and Olivia are not reincarnations of Uther and Ygraine, in case you're wondering. But since Arthur never got a chance to get to know his mother in his first life, I thought it only fair to give him that chance in his second life.**


	5. Four: Remembering

**Saturday**

Merlin woke before Arthur did. That was all right with him. It gave him a chance to do his morning meditation.

It was something that he'd started doing about a hundred years after Arthur's death, when he found himself forgetting the names of those dearest to him, if only briefly. Since then, he had meditated every morning, running through a mental list of his loved ones,keeping them fresh in his memories. Not just his loved ones, but also his enemies. There were some people, good and bad, who were just too important to forget. He knew that his process would be a little different this morning, though, because several of the people that he worked so hard to remember were in his life again. He wouldn't have to cling to these memories as hard.

He always went in the same order, and he didn't change that now.

Hunith, his mother. He had always thought his mother was beautiful, in a simple way. Her blue eyes had always had a sad slant to them. Her black hair hung just past her shoulders in soft curls. She usually kept it pulled back with a green headscarf. He remembered the lullaby she would sing to him every night as he fell asleep, an ancient song about the magic of the eart. Her voice had always been soft, kind. He no longer remembered any of the scents or tastes from his childhood, but he clung to the things that he did remember. He _forced_ himself to remember. The way she said his name when she caught him doing magic. Not in anger-she never spoke to him in anger-but in fear. She feared what would happen to him if anyone learned of his gift. He remembered the way she cupped the back of his neck whenever she hugged him. He remembered the way she had danced slightly as she swept their small house in Ealdor.

Gaius, his mentor. The old man had taken him in and taught him the rules of the Old Religion. And that damn eyebrow…There were many times that Merlin felt like he was being judged by that eyebrow alone. Merlin remembered the pride he'd seen in Gaius's eyes when he'd accomplished a particularly difficult feat of magic. He had been one of the only ones to truly understand the burden on Merlin's shoulders.

Balinor, his father. He was the hardest for Merlin to remember. He'd only known his father for one day. The features of his face weren't always the same in Merlin's mind. They fluctuated. He couldn't recall his voice, or the way he walked. He remembered his fingers whittling the small dragon that he now took with him everywhere he went. It sat, currently, on the small ledge of his headboard. He'd placed a preservation spell on it long ago, to keep it from being destroyed by age. The one memory that never faded was the feel of his father's body in his hands, the warmth of the blood as it soaked through Balinor's tunic. Those final words had never left him, though Merlin wouldn't remember the voice that had said them. "You are my son. I've seen enough in you to know that you will make me proud." He tried, in everything he did, to make his father proud.

Arthur, the Once and Future King. His face was easier to recall now. Merlin usually imagined him in his chainmail and long red cape. But this time, the picture in his mind was one of Arthur in a red hoodie and jeans. Merlin didn't have to try very hard to remember his dearest friend, not anymore. Seeing him now had brought back so many memories, some that Merlin had thought he'd forgotten. All the times that Arthur had thrown items at his head or yelled his name in anger or ordered him around. All the times that Arthur had given him a back-handed compliment or encouraged him or defended him.

Guinevere, the first friend he'd made in Camelot. Her brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin. She had a soft beauty about her. Merlin had always admired her strength and wisdom and kindness. She had always provided a voice of reason. And after Arthur's death, she had ruled Camelot well. It had been Gwen who had united the five kingdoms in peace at last. Arthur had begun the process, but Gwen had finished it.

Freya, his first love. Her beautiful face with sad brown eyes. She hadn't said much, in the time that he'd known her, and he had since forgotten the sound of her voice. But he would never forget the smile that lit up her face, or the gentle press of her lips against his. His last memory of her was when she caught Excalibur, and he had only seen her hand.

Lancelot, the one who knew his secret. He always tried to do the right thing in any situation. His soft voice had always been used in kindness, and he went out of his way to help others. He had been a true friend to Merlin, one who Merlin didn't have to lie to or hide his true nature from. It had been Lancelot's sacrifice that had closed the tear between the worlds that Morgana had created.

Gwaine, the drunk. He was always plowing headfirst into dangerous situations without a second thought for his own safety. His smug smile as he dove into a fight where the odds were stacked against him. And how many times had he aided Merlin in various escapades? He was reckless, but he was loyal and brave.

Percival, the gentle giant. He was one of the largest men Merlin had ever known, but he also had one of the largest hearts. He wouldn't turn a blind eye to those in need. He had been a small source of comfort to Merlin on the return to Camelot, following Arthur's death. Merlin hadn't wanted to return at all-and he didn't attend when Gwen announced Arthur's death to the court-but Percival had convinced him to return home.

Leon, the steadfast one. He had always served the throne of Camelot. His loyalty had never wavered. But Merlin had lost count of the times Leon had been the one to present bad news to the rest of the court. The poor man always seemed to be the messenger of terrible information.

Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon. His golden scales that glimmered faintly in the moonlight. Merlin had always hated his cryptic messages and warnings. And he'd always thought that the dragon had a tendency to be dramatic and exaggerate. He was not always right. He had, after all, claimed that Aithusa would be good for Camelot. Still, Merlin had felt it when Kilgharrah had passed, and he had grieved. It was yet another link to the world he'd grown up in gone. He could only guess at Albion's current need, the need that supposedly brought Arthur back.

Mordred, the druid. Merlin often wondered how things would have been different if he'd killed Mordred when he was just a boy, as he'd been told to do. Then again, how would things have been different if Arthur hadn't executed Kara, or if Mordred had been there to witness Arthur giving Kara a second chance which she rejected? Merlin knew that he had allowed the words of the prophecy to color his every interaction with Mordred, and that Mordred hadn't deserved it most of the time. He could be a good person, given the chance. Maybe it was time Merlin gave him that chance. Maybe Mordred was back to atone for his own betrayal.

And Morgana, the High Priestess. Merlin knew it was his fault that she became what she did. If he had comforted her when she first learned of her magic, if he had helped her in her time of need and confusion, would she have felt as betrayed as she did? Perhaps if he'd helped her to understand what he had been trying to accomplish, she could have been an ally instead of an enemy in his fight to bring magic back to the kingdom. In fact, if she hadn't turned on them, magic probably would have been brought back to the kingdom. Most of Arthur's distrust of magic stemmed from acts that Morgana committed. If Merlin had just talked to her...

So many regrets. There were some things that he knew he should have done differently. He'd had so many years to think about all the choices he'd made, and to think about what choices he should have made differently. And while he couldn't change the past, maybe he was finally being given a chance to right his own wrongs.

Merlin took a deep breath as he came out of his morning meditation. Arthur's bed was an empty mess. He must have woken while Merlin was thinking. Amazingly, Merlin hadn't heard him. Then again, he did tend to get very absorbed in his memories.

He uncrossed his legs and climbed out of bed. He had to resist the urge to fix Arthur's bed on the way to the bathroom-it seemed almost natural to clean up after the prat.

By the time he got dressed and went into the living room, the rest of his friends were there as well-except Gavin, which didn't surprise Merlin. He'd gone out late the night before and apparently still hadn't returned. He'd decided to bar-hop, though Merlin wasn't sure how he planned on doing that since the legal drinking age in America was twenty-one. Gavin was only eighteen. Merlin had a vial of tonic ready for him when he did return. His hangover was sure to be horrifying.

They were all lounging around, complaining about being hungry. Well, Lance wasn't complaining, but the rest of them were. It was nearly eleven, but they were all perfectly capable of getting their own food.

Merlin just looked at them, shaking his head. Despite all the complaining, none of them made a move to do anything about it. So this was his destiny? To serve the knights again?

"I'll cook for everyone," he said, going into the kitchen. Luckily, he'd brought plenty of food with him. He knew, from past experiences, that college boys didn't eat much other than takeout and microwaveable meals. He was too old to live on that kind of garbage, not on a regular basis.

Lance followed after him. "You don't have to do that, Merlin. We're all adults. We can get our own breakfast."

Merlin smirked. "Arthur, an adult?" Lance chuckled at that, even though Arthur hadn't really acted childish yet. Merlin was sure it was only a matter of time. "I like to cook, Lance. And I'm good at it. I don't mind. Really."

"All right. Do you want help, then?"

Merlin shook his head. "I got it."

As he prepared breakfast, he thought about all the people he'd studied the culinary arts under. He'd done enough cooking in his days in Camelot to be decent at it, but he'd learned some amazing recipes and techniques since then.

He had worked with Bartolomeo Scappi in the late fifteen-hundreds. Merlin had been the one to suggest that he write down his recipes, and the first cookbook was created. Not that Merlin got any credit for that.

He'd learned how to create food showpieces from Marie-Antoine Careme, back in the early eighteen-hundreds. He'd made a decent living in the nineteen-twenties using Careme's techniques. He didn't usually cook in a showy style, but it came in handy when he was trying to impress a girl.

His favorite cooking teacher had been Alexis Soyer. The man had cooked for members of the nobility, but he never turned away from the poor. It was his idea to start soup kitchens in Ireland during the Potato Famine. Merlin had met him during the Crimean War, when they had both been helping Florence Nightingale, in one way or another. Merlin had been among the male orderlies helping to tend to the wounded soldiers. Alexis had been doing his best to provide decent meals for the men, to keep them at full-strength.

The front door opened, pulling him out of his memories. Merlin saw Gavin stumble in, clutching his head.

"Headache?" Percy asked, without much sympathy.

Gavin just groaned in response.

Merlin shook his head. He thought about letting him suffer, but he knew from personal experience that that would only make the rest of them suffer. A hungover Gwa…Gavin was not a pleasant Gavin. Nobody enjoyed being around him when he was hungover.

He took the vial from his pants pocket. "Gavin," he called. "Try this. It will help."

Gavin shook his head, then winced at the pain Merlin knew that action had caused, coming to stand in the doorway. "I'll just go sleep it off," he slurred. "None of those remedies ever work on me."

"This one will. Trust me. Just…don't smell it."

Shrugging, Gavin took the vial. If he'd been more coherent, he probably would have said something about the fact that most people didn't carry vials like that anymore. It definitely looked medieval. He drained it in one gulp.

Merlin set out the food on the large table, near the end of the kitchen, and called everybody to eat-but not before he dished up his own plate. He knew these men far too well. If he didn't get his food now, he wouldn't get any at all.

"Merlin, dude, what is _in_ this stuff?" Gavin asked, as everyone dished up their food. "It's amazing. I feel better already."

Winking, Merlin said, "Magic."

The others laughed. "Good one," Lance said. "So you've obviously embraced the fact that you were named after a wizard."

Merlin just shrugged. He hadn't really expected any of them to believe it. For now, it would be better for them not to know of his magic. He needed to find out why they were all back. And then, once he had that information, he would consider telling them about his magic.

"Just don't expect me to make it for you all the time, Gavin," Merlin warned. "If you go out drinking the night before a big final, you're on your own."

Gavin just waved a hand at him, digging into his food.

Leon groaned suddenly. "Merlin, this food is amazing. I've never tasted anything this delicious."

"I've traveled the world-my uncle was a traveling art dealer," he lied easily. "I've learned recipes from all around the globe."

* * *

 **So I know that this chapter was a bit...information heavy. And most of it was information that we already knew. But I felt that it was important for Merlin to go through that mentally. Anyway, I hoped you all enjoyed it. You got to see a tiny glimpse into Merlin's life without Arthur. Teensy tiny glimpse. Let me know what you think.**

 **Oh, I want to thank all of you for the wonderful reviews that I've been getting. They fill my heart with joy. Thanks so much.**


	6. Five: Miranda

They ended up going to the campus's main courtyard together, where the school's clubs and societies were trying to recruit new freshmen to join them.

Camelot University was built like a castle, which really wasn't that surprising, since it was inspired by King Arthur. The whole school surrounded a very large center courtyard. The building itself had actual turrets, and he'd been told that some of the classes were held in those turrets. All of the Astronomy classes, for example. What better place to watch the stores than a castle tower?

The courtyard was currently full of booths for various groups-French Club, ballroom dancing, film committee, robotics, to name just a few. Arthur and his roommates walked through the crowds, looking at their different options. Arthur wasn't sure if he would actually join any of them or not, but it didn't hurt to look.

Then Arthur grinned, elbowing Merlin, as they passed a group of women wearing spandex and stretching on thin mats. He couldn't resist teasing him. "Merlin, why don't you go join the other girls in the yoga club? They probably meditate every morning, too." When he'd woken up that morning, Merlin had been sitting cross-legged on his bed with his eyes closed. He hadn't even twitched as Arthur had gotten himself ready, and Arthur hadn't exactly been quiet.

Merlin scowled. "Yoga and meditation are not just for girls."

Gavin laughed at that. "Yeah, sure, Merlin. That's like saying that alcohol is actually bad for you."

Percy just rolled his eyes. He'd obviously heard his friend say that before.

Still, Arthur felt the need to speak up. Gavin couldn't go through his whole life under _that_ misconception-where had he even heard that? It'd end up being a very short life. "Uh, Gavin. Actually, alcohol is bad for you."

"That's just what they want you to think."

"No, seriously. It can kill you, if you drink too much of it. Which you obviously like to do, if last night was any indication. It destroys-"

Merlin shook his head, interrupting Arthur. "Don't bother. It won't do you any good. He really believes that, and his skull is thicker than your waist."

" _What_?" Did Merlin just call him fat? Really? He wasn't fat! He was fighting fit! "Are you calling me fat?"

Wait…

 _Fighting_ _fit_?

Had he really just thought that?

"Merlin!" Gavin exclaimed suddenly, veering to the left. He picked up a pamphlet from the booth for a club called _The_ _Order_ _of_ _Merlin_. "It's the perfect club for you. Look at this, they have ranks. The more spells you learn, the higher rank you get. He he, spells. Seriously? And, get this, the highest rank is…Master Merlin." Gavin started laughing.

Arthur was suddenly extremely grateful that his father hadn't allowed his mother to name him Merlin, like she'd wanted to. Being named after a legendary king was better than being named after a kooky wizard. At least he had that much to be grateful for.

One of the students manning the booth-a freckly boy with large brown eyes and braces-stepped forward. He was wearing a pointed hat.

Seriously. And a long, starry robe.

"Are you interested in joining?" he asked. "I'm the current Master Merlin, head of-"

"Merlin didn't wear a stupid pointed hat!" Merlin said. He was practically glaring at the guy. "Take that stupid thing off. It's a disgrace."

Arthur gently but firmly pushed his roommate away from the booth. "Okay, then. Calm down, Merlin. It's just a hat." He didn't understand why Merlin was getting so upset about it. Was it just because he was British, and the Arthurian legends originated from that area? Were all the British this touchy about the legends? Or was Merlin just weird?

It was probably just Merlin.

Merlin huffed. "I just don't understand why so many people think he wore a pointed hat. Nobody wore pointed hats in those days, even if they were powerful warlocks."

"Warlock?" Arthur repeated, frowning. He'd never heard that term used to describe King Arthur's adviser. Wizard was the usual term used. He'd also heard sorcerer a few times. But never warlock.

Before Merlin could respond, Gavin was slamming something onto his head, grinning. "Ah, such a pretty princess."

Arthur slapped the back of Gavin's head, as he pulled the item off his own head. It was a plastic tiara, with big fake pink gems. He nearly growled. "Gavin."

Gavin just laughed. He snatched the tiara back and attempted to put it on Arthur's head a second time. But Arthur was expecting it. He twisted, wrapping his arm around the back of Gavin's neck, putting him in a headlock. He rubbed his clenched fist into the other man's scalp. "I told you not to call me that ever again."

Gavin finally managed to pull himself free. "You messed up my hair," he grumbled, reaching up to fix it.

"You poor thing."

The group kept walking. So far, none of them had seen anything that caught their attention. Gavin kept up a steady stream of commentary as they walked, yet he also managed to flirt with several girls as he did so.

It was really annoying.

"Does he ever shut up?" Arthur muttered, mostly to himself.

Merlin snorted. "No," he said, at the same time that Percy said it.

"Oh, that might be a good one," Micah said, pointing.

Arthur looked and scoffed at what he saw. "The Knights of the Round Table?"

"Might be kinda fun," Lance said. "We should at least go see what they have to say."

Shrugging, the group approached the booth. The upperclassman standing there was handing out small foam swords to anyone even slightly interested in joining. Gavin immediately took one and began whacking each of them with it.

Pretty soon, everyone except Merlin had a sword, and they were chasing each other around on the lawn. They never did sign up for the organization. They were acting like a bunch of little kids, but none of them seemed to care.

After a while, they collapsed on the ground, breathing hard. Merlin stood nearby, shaking his head. "How old are you guys?"

"Five," Gavin answered, getting to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, though he didn't move to follow.

"You'll see." He disappeared.

Sighing, Arthur stood up. He was still holding his fake sword. Whatever Gavin was doing, it probably wasn't a good thing. Only a few minutes later, he saw Gavin sneaking up behind Merlin. He snapped a long, white beard over Merlin's face and pulled a pointed hat over his eyes, grinning recklessly. As Merlin sputtered and tried to remove the items, Gavin pushed the tiara into Arthur's hair again.

"All hail Princess Arthur and fear Merlin the Magnificent!"

"Gavin!" Merlin and Arthur yelled, chasing after him as he ran away.

Then Gavin tripped, seemingly over nothing but his own feet, and fell flat on his face. Merlin stood over him, looking smug. "Knock it off, Gavin. You're annoying."

"Or what?" Gavin challenged, rolling onto his back. He was grinning again. "You'll turn me into a toad?"

"You're already halfway there, toad-face."

A familiar laugh interrupted them, before Arthur could think of a suitable punishment for Gavin. "That's a new look for you, Arthur, though I must say that it suits you pretty well. All those times that you pretended to be king, when you really wanted to be queen. I had no idea."

Arthur yanked off the tiara-he'd forgotten he was even wearing it-as he turned to face his cousin. He'd known he'd see her around campus sometime, since they were only a few months apart and they were both attending Camelot University, but he hadn't expected it to be this soon, in all honesty.

Miranda was the daughter of Olivia's sister. She had always been beautiful, with raven-black hair and intense green eyes. They had been very close growing up, and both felt more like siblings than cousins. His Aunt Elizabeth had babysat him at her house every day after school until he was twelve, while his mom worked. So he and Miranda had spent a lot of time playing together.

"Shut up, Miranda," he said. He looked to her left, where a beautiful girl was standing. Her skin was soft-looking and smooth and chocolate brown. Her hair, several shades darker than her skin, hung to nearly her waist in tight curls. Her dark brown eyes were warm and kind.

His vision blurred, and then he was seeing a different version of this girl, one dressed in medieval finery.

 _They stood, facing one another, their hands clasped together. They had gone through so much to get here, but they had finally made it. Arthur was glad that he had gone against tradition to marry her. She made him a better leader. The crown on her head looked so perfect, almost as though she had been destined to wear it._

 _His bride, his queen._

Arthur shook his head. He was going crazy. He had to be. This school was going to be the death of him.

Miranda smirked, glancing briefly at his roommates. Great. She was about to embarrass him. It was one of her favorite pastimes. But unlike his mother, who never meant to embarrass him, Miranda did it on purpose. "Every day after school, he would put on a crown and a cape and pretend to be the famous King Arthur. He would boss me and all of my stuffed animals around. Until I beat him up and stole the crown from him. I named myself queen. He cried. Like a little girl. He was ten."

"Shut up, Miranda."

Gavin stepped forward, looking his cousin over appreciatively. Arthur had discovered, throughout their little walk-through in the courtyard, that Gavin was a ladies' man. If it breathed and had boobs, Gavin flirted with it. "Arthur, aren't you going to introduce us to this lovely lady?"

Arthur looked at his roommates. They were all admiring Miranda, which was the usual reaction his cousin got from guys. And Merlin was just plain gawking, his mouth wide open in shock. Miranda tended to have that effect on guys, too. It annoyed him. And his own roommate? He didn't want any of these guys dating his cousin. That would be weird.

"Uh, yeah. This is my cousin, Miranda Kelley. Our moms are sisters. Miranda, this is Lionel, Micah, Lance, Elliott, Percy, Gavin, and…" he hesitated. Miranda knew all about his mother's obsession, of course. And she would make sure everyone else knew it, too. "Merlin. They're my roommates."

She laughed. "Merlin? Oh, Aunt Olivia is going to _love_ that."

Merlin shook his head slightly, closing his mouth. He still didn't look away from Miranda. "Aunt Olivia?"

Arthur sighed and explained, "My mom. She loves the Merlin character. He's her favorite."

That seemed to amuse Merlin. He finally looked at Arthur, a small grin on his lips. "Really? Your mother's favorite character is…me? I mean, my namesake?"

Miranda nodded. "Oh, definitely. She is going to totally freak when she hears that Arthur has a roommate named after her favorite Arthurian character. You know, she wanted to name Arthur Merlin, but Uncle Robert wouldn't let her."

Merlin's grin widened. " _Really_?"

" _Miranda_ ," Arthur hissed, "stop. Who's your friend?" he asked, mostly to distract her from continuing to embarrass him. But he was very curious. He felt like he knew her from somewhere, he just couldn't think of where.

"Oh, sorry. This is my roommate, Jenessa Tomson. And I believe that Elliott here is her brother," she said, looking back at Jenessa for confirmation.

Jenessa nodded. "We're twins. And please, call me Jen."

"Dude!" Gavin exclaimed, glaring at Elliott. "How come you never told us you had a hot twin sister?"

"Because I just met you yesterday, and I hardly know you. Besides, from what I've seen so far, you're not exactly the kind of guy I'd want my sister to be with. You're a drunk and a womanizer, Gavin. You've already managed to get the numbers of ten girls this morning."

"Thirteen. And two guys."

"My point exactly."

Jen shook her head. "I can take care of myself, Elliott. You really don't need to worry about me."

Arthur was having a difficult time not staring at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Merlin doing the same thing with Miranda. But now that the shock of her beauty had apparently worn off, Arthur realized that his roommate was watching her with suspicion, much as he did with Micah. But why would Merlin be suspicious of Miranda? There was no reason for it.

"Merlin!" a female voice called suddenly, from just behind Merlin. A girl, probably eighteen or nineteen, with dark hair and dark eyes, was walking toward them. It sounded like she had an accent as well. Maybe she knew him from the UK? "Merlin! There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Merlin turned, with a frown on his face, and Arthur heard him yelp in surprise.

* * *

 **I'll let you use your imaginations on who the girl was. She's obviously someone from Merlin's past...But how far in the past? He's thousands of years old...**

 **Anywho, I'm kind of having fun exploring a different side of Arthur and the knights, one that we didn't really get much of in the show. They're more...playful? I guess that's the right word. Before, I don't think that they really teased each other as much as they could have, because Arthur was the prince/king. Even though they did a lot of teasing, I think they would have done anymore if there hadn't been that king and his subjects mentality.**

 **And yes, Gavin is extremely immature. Remember, they're all a little younger than they were in the show. So, there's going to be a bit more immaturity, I think. I hope I don't get too far off. But I imagine that the dynamic between them is going to be a tad bit different this time around. Enjoy! Let me know what you think. I love to hear your thoughts.**


	7. Six: Boring Life

**Thank you all so much for the reviews. I'm so glad that you're all enjoying this. It warms my heart to read all the lovely things you have to say!**

* * *

"Merlin!" a female voice called, from somewhere behind him. "Merlin! There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Merlin frowned, because that accented voice seemed achingly familiar. He turned around, and yelped in surprise. He had somewhat been expecting to see Gwen and Morgana eventually-he would have to get used to calling them _Jen_ and _Miranda_ -but he never thought he'd see Freya again. At least, not outside of the Lake of Avalon.

"Freya!" he exclaimed, forgetting in his shock that she might not go by the same name now.

She gave him a huge smile, telling him that he hadn't called her by the wrong name. "Hello."

He was speechless. He was beyond happy to see her again. Before he could stop himself, or even think about what he was doing, he pulled her into a tight hug. Then he pulled back slightly and kissed her.

On the lips.

His roommates hooted, reminding him that they were there. He had completely forgotten about them. He broke away from Freya, his cheeks on fire. He looked at the others, cringing slightly. He wasn't surprised to see that they were all smirking. Except Jen and Lance. They actually had genuine smiles on their faces.

"Merlin," Arthur said. He was looking at Merlin's hand, which Freya had gripped in her own. He raised an eyebrow. "Who's your lady friend?" Merlin knew that he was going to spend the next several weeks being teased mercilessly by his roommates.

"Uh…" Merlin wasn't really sure how to introduce her. She obviously knew who he was-who he _really_ was. He'd seen it in her dark eyes. And she'd answered to the name Freya, but he didn't know anything else about this modern version of her. Had she been reincarnated as well? Or had she risen from the lake, like he'd always thought Arthur would?

Freya laughed softly. "He's so cute when he's flustered. I'm Freya Lynn," she introduced, still chuckling. Merlin's eyebrows rose at that. Lynn was derived from the Welsh word _llyn_ , which meant lake. Fitting. "I'm Merlin's girlfriend."

Merlin felt his face get even redder. He stared at Freya. She was his first love, true, but they hadn't really known each long enough to build any sort of relationship. At least, not a definable relationship.

Gavin whistled. "You didn't tell us you had a cute girl."

"I…" He didn't know what to say.

Luckily, Freya took over for him. "Merlin doesn't like to tell people things about himself. It takes a lot to get information out of him." She smiled, leaning her head against his arm.

Miranda grinned. "Oh, they're adorable together."

Merlin cleared his throat. He really needed to talk to Freya…away from prying ears. "I'll meet you guys back at the Lakehouse later tonight." He started to gently pull Freya away from his roommates, ignoring their catcalls and teasing. He would never hear the end of this.

Merlin led her to a café just down the street from the campus. They each ordered a hot chocolate and then sat down at a table for two once they had their drinks, and Merlin just stared at her. Finally, he said, "What are you…How are you here?"

She smiled softly, taking his hands in her own. "I was granted permission to help you. I've been allowed to come back, to help you and Arthur protect Albion once more."

"So you haven't been reborn like the others?"

"No. I came directly from the lake. Well, not directly. I had a few days to get used to this modern world."

Merlin frowned. "Do you know what we need to protect Albion _from_? Why was Arthur brought back now, _here_?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know much about that. I can sense that something evil is gathering, but it may be years before the threat is revealed. Whatever it is, it must originate here, in America."

"So it's not an immediate threat, then?"

"No. Not as far as I can tell."

Merlin relaxed slightly. At least he had a bit of time to figure out why Arthur was needed. He shook his head. "I can't believe you're here. Is anybody else from Camelot going to show up suddenly? Because after seeing Gwen and Morgana just now, and then you, I'm not sure I can take any more people from my past showing up."

"No. No one else is coming back. But everyone who has been brought will have a role to play, of some sort."

He sighed in relief. "Well, at least I won't have to deal with Uther on top of everything else. What roles do Morgana and Mordred have this time around? I didn't sense any magic from either of them, and they didn't seem to hate me or Arthur."

"I don't know what role they'll have, but they've both been given a second chance. I do know that much. They were both good people, before circumstances allowed them to make terrible choices."

Merlin nodded. "Morgana had a good heart, before Morgause influenced her. So Miranda now is the Morgana I first met, the Morgana I considered a friend?"

"Yes."

"And Micah is Mordred when he joined the knights, when he was still loyal to Arthur?"

"Yes."

That eased more of his tension. Things would be different with them this time around, he would make sure of it. Merlin wasn't going to make the same mistakes. "None of them remember anything, do they? The way that they talk, and the way that they react to some of the things that I say, makes me think that they don't."

"Not yet. They will, in time. But Merlin, they must remember on their own. You cannot force it. When they are ready, they will remember."

He nodded, sighing. He'd guessed as much, which is why he hadn't said anything about his past-their past-to any of them. He studied her. She was just as beautiful as she'd been when he first met her, though this time there was no dirt to hide that beauty. She was wearing a navy and white striped shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans with tall brown boots.

"You look amazing, Freya."

"Thank you. I love modern fashion." She looked him up and down. "You hardly look any different, though. Do you ever wear any other colors?"

He glanced down at himself. He had on a long-sleeved blue shirt, with a thin red scarf wrapped once around his neck. He grinned sheepishly. "They are my favorite colors. But of course they're not the only colors I wear."

"They certainly suit you."

"I still can't believe you're here. I missed you so much, Freya."

She smiled warmly at him. "I'm certainly glad to be back. I want to help you. You've been so alone, Merlin, for so long. And now, we have a chance to have a proper courtship."

"So you were serious about being my…girlfriend?" The modern term seemed strange to say while he was talking to someone from his ancient past. They didn't use the terms girlfriend or boyfriend in his earlier days. It was always beloved or promised one or something like that. Thinking of Freya as his girlfriend was odd, but in a good way.

"Of course. Did you think I was kidding?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't sure what I was thinking, to be honest. You're very familiar with modern phrases."

Her only answer was a smirk.

"So, Merlin," she said, running her finger along the top of her untouched mug. "What have you been doing all these years?"

He arched an eyebrow at her, amused at the question. "You mean the mystical Lady of the Lake doesn't know?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. "I don't know everything, obviously. And time moves differently in Avalon. I was actually kept pretty busy while there."

"You don't want to know about my boring life."

"I'm sure it wasn't boring."

Merlin nodded. "It was," he insisted. Sure, he'd traveled the world, but without his friends and family, it just felt like running away. He never enjoyed the sights as much as he would have if he hadn't been traveling alone.

Freya gave him a pleading look. "Please, Merlin? I want to know."

So he told her. At least, he told her some of it. There was too much for him to tell her everything.

He told her about meeting Leonardo da Vinci in fifteen-sixteen, while he was living in the castle of Cloux. He and Leonardo would talk for hours about the marvels of science. They didn't always agree, but they always enjoyed their lengthy discussions.

He told her about his chance to meet Ludwig von Beethoven. Merlin had somehow ended up working as a servant again, working in Vienna in Court Lichnovsky's palace. Beethoven had been given an apartment in the palace, and Merlin often saw to his needs. Merlin had not really had a chance to get to know him well, but he'd always thought they would have gotten along quite well. The man had been untidy and clumsy and simply incapable of adhering to the rules of social behavior.

Freya laughed at that. "Sounds like someone I know. No wonder you liked him!"

He rolled his eyes.

Then he told her about the two World Wars, and how he'd fought in both of them. He hadn't joined either one right away because…Well, he'd been convinced that Arthur would rise for them. So he'd waited by the lake until it became clear Arthur wasn't returning just yet. He hadn't worried about dying-by then, he'd realized that his immortality was absolute.

Freya looked at the table, drawing invisible designs with her fingers. "How did you discover that your immortality was absolute? No, wait. First tell me when you discovered that you were immortal."

Merlin sighed, glad she'd changed her question. That first one was…difficult for him to relive. And he was sure she wouldn't want all the morbid details. "I started to suspect it about ten years after Arthur's death." He explained that one of the younger knights had been teasing Leon about his wrinkles and his graying hair. And Merlin…He'd looked in a mirror closely and realized that he didn't _have_ any wrinkles or gray hairs. He hadn't expected many, at only thirty-four years old. He expected at least _some_ new wrinkles. But his face looked exactly as it had since he turned twenty-four. His suspicions had deepened when he'd discovered the meaning of the name the druids had given him, only a few months later. Emrys. Immortal. He doubted it was a coincidence.

"But it was confirmed when my mother died, twelve years after I first suspected, so twenty-two years after Arthur's death. I rode home to Ealdor for her funeral. I hadn't been there in...well, since Arthur's death. My mother usually came to Camelot to visit me. The villagers thought I was my own son. I didn't look forty-six. I looked twenty-four. I let them think that. How could I explain the truth to them? That was when I knew that I had simply stopped aging when Arthur died. But it was more than that. Apparently, I can't be killed. By anything. But you really don't want to know how I discovered that. It's gruesome."

It had been a dark time for him. He had been nearing his seven-hundredth birthday, when he'd decided that he was done waiting for a prat who would never return. He was done living such a lonely, miserable life waiting for something that was never going to happen. So he'd tried to kill himself.

He tried hanging himself.

It hurt like hell, and his throat was bruised for several days, but it didn't kill him. It didn't even break his neck. Not even when he tried it a second, third, or fourth time. The bones magically didn't break.

He jumped off a bridge.

He broke nearly every bone in his body that time, but his magic healed them all in a matter of hours. It didn't kill him. It did knock him out for about thirty minutes. But the fatal fall didn't kill him like it should have.

He drank a bottle of poison.

He woke up with a nasty headache. No other side effects, just a headache. He'd had worse hangovers.

He tried everything, at one point or another. His magic always found a way to protect him, or to immediately heal him. His injuries left scars, but no permanent damage.

Merlin could not die.

This realization was both a good and a bad thing. It made life seem incredibly vast and overwhelming to know that there was no escape from it. The endlessness of life drove him to insanity some days. And yet, he was able to help so many more people when he didn't have to worry about his own safety.

Freya was watching him closely. "All right. I won't ask about that, not if it makes you that uncomfortable. We should probably leave, anyway. I think they're about to close up for the night."

Merlin looked up in surprise. Sure enough, it was starting to get dark outside. He and Freya had been talking for several hours. They'd each ordered two more mugs of hot chocolate in the time they'd been talking. "Oh, wow."

He took her hand as they left the café. They wandered aimlessly for a while, still not quite ready to part, this time talking about their childhoods. Well, mostly Freya's childhood. She had an easier time remembering hers. Merlin had forgotten of his own childhood.

Before Merlin knew it, it was nearly midnight. "It's late," he said. "Let me walk you home."

Freya grinned. "Oh, don't worry. I can protect myself."

The way she said that made Merlin think of the beast she'd been forced to transform into every night. He frowned at her. "I thought the curse was lifted when you…died?"

"Not the curse, silly. I still have my other talents." She closed her eyes and lifted a closed fist to her mouth. He couldn't hear what she whispered, but he could sense the magic she used. She opened her palm, and a red rose sat in the center of it.

She gave him the rose and then kissed his lips softly. Then she walked away.

Merlin smiled, watching her. He turned around and began slowly walking toward the Lakehouse.

* * *

 **So Emrys is the Welsh form of Ambrosius (which is either Latin or Greek, I can't remember now which one), which means immortal. Go figure.**

 **And I know that Jenessa and Miranda aren't the best names. I was having such a hard time finding modern versions of Guinevere and Morgana that weren't totally obvious. Since they were such big players in the original Arthurian legends, I didn't want their names to be too similar.**

 **Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!**


	8. Seven: Girlfriends

**I'm sorry for the long wait, and even more sorry that this chapter is so short and not so good. I don't really like it, which is one of the reasons it's taken so long to get up. I have not (and will not) abandon this fic, I promise. I've just come across a big writer's block. I don't know when the next update will be. Argh. I'm frustrated with how this one turned out.**

* * *

Arthur was worried. He knew there was absolutely no reason for it-Merlin was an adult, perfectly capable of handling himself. And it was just a _date_. It wasn't like he was battling the forces of evil. It really wasn't even that late at night. It was barely midnight.

And why did Arthur even care? He hardly knew Merlin. Sure, Merlin was the kind of guy that you just felt like you'd known your whole life, but he really didn't. He didn't know where the guy worked, or what his class schedule was or anything. He really knew nothing about Merlin.

"Ugh." He slammed his pillow over his face as images filled his mind, images that didn't make any sense at all.

 _Merlin laying on a cot, his eyes closed. His face was pale and he was sweating. He had been poisoned, and he was dying. He was dying for Arthur's sake._

 _Merlin curled on a stone floor, his face blue and covered in a thin layer of frost. He was breathing, but barely. The idiot had jumped directly in the path of the creature._

 _Merlin being hit in the chest with a mace. He fell to the ground and was scooped up before Arthur could get to him._

Groaning, Arthur threw the pillow to the floor. Why would those images come to him? Merlin wasn't going to be poisoned or attacked by medieval-looking thugs. There was no reason for Arthur to be thinking those things. And why did he even care? Sure, he would never wish any harm on anyone, but he really didn't know Merlin, not yet. He'd only known the man for a freaking day and a half!

"It's this school," he muttered. "This school is making me go insane. I'm worrying over nothing. And I'm hallucinating. And…now I'm talking to myself."

With another groan, Arthur got out of bed. He didn't know why he was worried about Merlin, but he was and it was keeping him awake. Not that he'd really been trying to sleep.

He went into the kitchen and started making himself a sandwich. He had just taken a bite when the door opened.

Merlin walked in, carrying a small red rose. There was a smile on his lips. He looked up, saw Arthur, and hid the flower behind his back. "Oh, hey, Arthur. What are you doing up?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's only twelve-thirty. Classes don't start until Monday, so there's no reason to turn in so early tonight." No way was he going to admit that he'd been worried about his roommate.

"Where are the others?"

"Gavin's at the bar, surprise. Percy went with him, hopefully to cut him off before he gets too drunk."

Merlin snorted, shaking his head. "That will never happen. Percy can try, but he'll never be able to control Gw-Gavin. It's a lost cause."

"It certainly seems like it. Lance and Elliott have already turned in for the night-they both have to go to work super early tomorrow. I'm not sure where Micah is. And Lionel is out with Miranda. They really hit it off today." His cousin had been shameless in her flirting with Lionel. It really was ridiculous. He just hoped Lionel didn't get his heart broken.

Merlin's eyebrows rose. He seemed surprised by the idea. "Miranda and Lionel? I can't see that. I really can't."

Arthur chuckled. He had been a bit surprised, too. He'd thought Miranda would go for Percy, with all those gigantic muscles. "I doubt it's anything serious. Miranda's never kept a boyfriend longer than a month. She gets bored easily, and she's too much of a flirt. How was your date?"

"What?"

"Your date. With Freya?"

"Oh. Yeah. It was good." Merlin moved to the fridge and got out the milk. He poured himself a glass. He was no longer holding a rose, and he hadn't set one down anywhere. Huh. Arthur must have imagined it.

"How long have you two been dating?" Arthur was curious. There was definitely a unique chemistry between the two. He wasn't sure how to explain it.

Merlin scratched the back of his head, taking a long drink of his milk. "Uh…Not very long. We've known each other for a while-it feels like centuries." Merlin grinned slightly. "But the dating thing is a new development."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. Why wasn't Merlin giving him an actual date? Unless… "She's not really your girlfriend, is she? You paid her to pretend to be dating you." Even as he said it, though, he knew it wasn't true. He had seen the affection in both Merlin and Freya's eyes as they'd looked at each other. But Arthur felt like there was something strange with their relationship.

Merlin looked offended. "Of course I didn't. Am I that pathetic-looking that you just assume that I can't get a girlfriend without resorting to bribery?"

"Well…" Arthur couldn't resist. He had to tease his roommate. It was like a compulsion.

The raven-haired man shook his head, giving a long-suffering sigh. "I haven't paid Freya. She really is my girlfriend."

"How did you two meet?"

The ghost of a smile pulled at Merlin's lips. "I don't think you're ready to hear _that_ story."

"Oh, come on. Don't be mysterious, Merlin."

"You're not ready."

Arthur frowned. "Why? Is it something illegal?"

"No. Well, actually, I guess it kind of was. But the law was…unjust. She did not deserve to be impr-treated the way she was. I had to get her out of there."

Arthur felt his eyes widen. "Imprisoned? Is that what you were about to say? You broke your girlfriend out of _jail_?"

Merlin seemed to realize what he'd said. Or almost said. He froze, his own eyes wide. "Uh…Well, no. She wasn't in jail. She was…She came from a really crummy home life. I got her out of there."

He looked Merlin up and down. The boy was scrawny with goofy ears. "You? Rescue someone? I can't see it."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "I'm stronger than I look."

Arthur snorted. "Sure, whatever you say. So, have you dated before Freya?"

For some reason, this question seemed to be extremely amusing to Merlin. "Oh, yeah. I've had loads of girlfriends. More than I can count."

"Really?"

Merlin shrugged, not giving any specifics, which made Arthur suspicious. "You?"

Arthur shrugged in turn. "I've gone on a lot of dates, but I've only had three serious girlfriends."

"Are you seeing anyone now?" Arthur shook his head. Merlin got a wicked look on his face. "What did you think of Jenessa?"

Arthur's cheeks warmed slightly. He didn't want to admit that he'd imagined Jenessa as his wife and queen. It was too embarrassing. "She's nice," he said.

"That's it? _Nice_?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Have you really dated more girls than you can count?" he asked, mostly to change the subject.

Merlin just nodded.

"Really?"

"Yes! Why is that so hard for you to believe, Arthur? Do you honestly think girls only go after blokes who are blonde and athletic-looking?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry. I should probably head to bed. It's been a long day."

"Yeah, sure. I'll try not to wake you when I come in."

Merlin placed his glass in the sink and disappeared into their shared room.

Arthur frowned as he realized that he and Merlin had just been chatting like a couple of schoolgirls. That was not okay. He needed to leave the girly talks to the girls.


End file.
